


Undercover

by girlingoldboots



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Gen, Internal Monologue
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2011-10-01
Updated: 2011-10-01
Packaged: 2017-10-24 05:52:07
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 533
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/259710
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/girlingoldboots/pseuds/girlingoldboots
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Written for Cycle 4, Round 1 for thegameison_sh on LiveJournal. The prompt was "undercover" and it had to be taken literally.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Undercover

**Author's Note:**

> Nothing to note, but if you're so inclined the tip jar is open:  
> [Buy Me a Coffee](https://ko-fi.com/A4012NV1)

Thanks to the autumn weather he was able to pull his coat collar up and hunker down inside the scarf. If someone decided to glance in the direction of the young man in the plain brown coat and cap and then dismiss him. The coat was distasteful, but Jim was glad for the blandness of the cover. But unfortunately right now the cover was needed and he wasn’t interested in exposing himself before the time of his choosing.

He knew that everyone, including the great Sherlock Holmes, assumed that he was no longer in England. In truth he wasn't but there were times he could not resist coming back to check on those he wanted to without fear of being noticed. How easy it had been to follow John Watson around. For a former soldier he was really an unobservant person, completely oblivious to the fact that Jim was two people behind him in the line at Tesco's.

Ah well, he would deal with Sherlock and his pet doctor soon enough. There was no point paying the flat a little visit when no one was home. That meddling brother of Sherlock's most likely had the building monitored. He stood out across the street from 221 and pretended to read a newspaper whilst watching as the housekeeper bid good day to what appeared to be potential renters for the flat below. He smirked as he circled the advert in the paper and toyed with the idea of renting the space right underneath Sherlock's nose.

But even Moriarty was not that fool-hearty, as tempting as that was being right now.

Ah well, his time in the city was limited. If he was here any longer he'd have to shed the piss-poor disguise and become himself again and that wasn't part of the game. He knew that his move was next, and now wasn't quite the right time to make that move.

He found himself outside of Molly's old flat. She had moved of course, pity as he still had a key. That would be a nice surprise for her to come home to. Him smiling and sitting on her uncomfortable couch. Knife in one hand and that damned cat's pelt in the other.

But no, all that would be another move in another part of the game. The rook, bishop, queen and saving the king for last.

Shifting the cap a little bit more forward he went to a local Boot's and bought a cheap card.

He penned "Next move is mine." and signed it with an M. To be sent from a post office as close to the MET as he could find and sent to Sherlock in care of his Inspector Nanny. Then it would be time for disguises to come off, masks come down and it would just be Sherlock and him, as it should be. Forever and ever until death do them part.

That thought alone was enough to keep him company on the way to his new location, where he’d throw away the drab coat and cap and put his suits back on. It would be off with one skin and on with another. Who said he wasn't a romantic?


End file.
